Nice Guys Bad Boys
by DundieAllStar
Summary: Sex and Drugs form a bond between Peeta and his new friend Finnick as they try and deal with their growing and changing relationship, and the mixed feelings between them. Peeta/Finnick **Chapter 3: Camaraderie**
1. Admiration

_**Hi Readers,**_

_**This story contains explicit sexual content and descriptions of drug use. You have been warned. Please review.**_

* * *

With a strong tug of the neck line of his shirt, the tear-away fabric did its job and came apart in his hand. As the cheering of the crowd began to roar, Peeta smiled and swung the shirt around his head. The black stage was illuminated green and glittery from the spotlight that shone brightly on him.

His sweaty palms took a firm grip of the golden pole, erected firmly in the center of the stage on a platform surrounded by dozens of shrieking woman. As Peeta bent his knees he ripped away the flimsy, tight black pants to reveal even flimsier black boxers. Gripping the pole even tighter, he braced himself for the high intensity of the women's screams ringing in his ear as he began gyrating seductively with a flirtatious smile in place revealing his pink lips and white teeth.

The music blasted louder in his ears, drowning out the women almost entirely. He slowly sank to the floor, one hand on the pole, the other pressed back on the stage, allowing him to arch his back and thrust his hips up in the air in rhythm to the music.

They loved him. They desired him, his sexuality, his body, his youth, his beauty. He knew that, but he didn't care. It didn't make Peeta feel any more desired. At the end of the song he would exit the stage and those feelings of desire would then be reflected on the next man, transferred then to the man they would spend their lives with. He was nothing more than a passing fancy, a beautiful person walking down the street or another faceless image of a naked person on a website. They used him for his aesthetically pleasing body, he used them for the money they would shamelessly throw onto the stage and bury him in. If he was whoring himself out for them, they were whoring themselves right back. As Peeta rose back up to his feet, wrapped his right leg around the pole and began twirling on it – much to their delight, he wondered who was really in control here? It wasn't even midnight yet and he had already made himself $400, more than half a week's wage at any 9 to 5 job.

Another grin, a cock of his head and a brush of his hand through his messy, glittery blonde hair and they were done. Hands reached out for him, screams became squeals, squeals became shrieks and Peeta had done his job, he had turned them all on.

The lights began to dim, the bright green lights that flickered and danced across the stage and curtain turned a crimson, blood red. The music changed from hip hop dance, to hard rock. Peeta only glanced at the blackened silhouette of the Adonis that stormed his way on stage before he caught glimpse of the ladies in the audience who up until 5 seconds earlier, were salivating over him, now all had their attention diverted to the taller man who rapidly stormed over to him.

Before Peeta could catch his breath, the man stood tall over him, his auburn hair brushed back nicely with a couple of locks hanging on his forehead. Tall, tanned wearing nothing but black briefs, he smiled at Peeta seductively, the same smile he then shot to the audience of screaming women as he firmly grasped the back of the smaller man's neck and pressed his front into the smaller back.

Peeta understood what was happening, which was why he swiftly turned to face the taller stranger, bending his knees a little as a smooth hand reached forward and rested on his hip. He knew the drill, he had done this dance before. He faked a smile and placed his hand on top of the hand that clutched his underwear, pulling them down ever so slightly while the man's other hand possessively grabbed his ass and pulled him closer.

He hadn't expected that.

Peeta released the man's hand and freed himself from his hold, before casually turning and walking off stage.

He kept his head down as he pushed past the curtain and the other dancers sniggered at him.

"Good job, kid," Cinna, the club owner and his boss said with enthusiasm and a clap on the back of his shoulder.

Still surprised, Peeta picked up one of the folded towels kept on a table by the stage entrance and a bottle of water. He quickly ran the towel through his messy blonde hair and shot a hateful look in the direction of the three other dancers who were about to take the stage.

"Who the hell is that?" Peeta asked in between breaths as he took a gulp of water.

"The new guy," Cinna muttered, his attention focused firmly on the wet notes that stuck to the stage, "Paul walked out and Chris sprained his ankle, I needed someone quickly."

Peeta grimaced at the man on stage. He felt annoyed and a little angry. "Yeah well, maybe you can go over our sexual harassment policy with him."

Cinna chuckled and turned to him, "Peeta, this is a strip club. We don't have a sexual harassment policy. We have a sign that says _No Touching_ and we frown on rape or any sort of date-rape drugs. That's our policy."

"But, Cinna-" he started.

"C'mon, kid," Cinna said with raised eyebrows, "I've seen you dance dirtier than that with people that could look a lot better. Don't let the fact that he showed you up get in the way of a good show. _That's _what matters, _that's _what brings in cash."

He hated to admit it, but Cinna was right. It was part of the job, and even Peeta knew that he felt embarrassed, not because of what had transpired, but what had resulted because of it. He saw the way they turned their attention to the older man, the one with the bigger muscles and the better body. Even though Peeta had convinced himself that what _they_ thought didn't matter, it still hurt to be outstaged like that.

Cinna laughed, looking very pleased with himself. This caught Peeta's attention, who turned and braced himself as he watched his mysterious new co-worker exit the stage and approach, swiping a bottle of water for himself and a towel. Both men locked eyes.

"You're the new guy?" Peeta asked, a little dumbfounded, unaware that his jaw had a dropped a little while his voice grew a little squeakier, "Paul's replacement?"

The man stepped closer, smiling a 1000 watt smile. He padded his lean and muscular chest down with the towel in his hand, removing a lot of the sweat and glitter.

"Finnick," he answered with an extension of his arm.

Peeta stared at him for a moment, almost unsure what to do and how to process what had just happened. He reluctantly accepted the handshake, "Peeta."

"Peeta," the man repeated, not as a question, but more of a statement. He had a strong handshake, one which the younger man quickly tried to top, finding it difficult. In a second their hands fell back to their sides. "Cinna yelled me out there and told me to work my moves on you the moment you worked the pole and they all lost it. Sorry for getting so close, he just told me they'd love it."

It seemed that the man's completely unsolicited actions had suddenly been given a justification, one which Peeta could understand. He knew how it must have looked to Cinna, standing backstage, a hand pulling the curtain back while he peered through and measured the audience reaction, calling Finnick onto stage to kick the heat up a whole hell of a notch. The result, red hot fire between them causing the lustful women to go up in flames.

"I really hope I didn't make you feel uncomfortable, man," Finnick continued, "I felt the way you tensed up when-"

"-It's fine," Peeta interrupted as he strangely found himself sympathizing for the man, feeling badly that he felt bad, "I get it, it's cool."

The older man smiled once again before turning and watching the stage. Three other dancers shared the spotlight leaving the two men standing in the dim light backstage.

Peeta smirked, "Let me show you around."

* * *

"So tonight was your first show?" Peeta asked as they walked down the darkened corridor and the music subsided to nothing more than a quiet thumping behind the walls.

Finnick pushed the dressing room door open, "First show here? Yeah. First show ever? No. Cinna only hired me yesterday."

Peeta chuckled, "He made me audition for three weeks before I even got to put on my first pair of cowboy boots."

As they made their way inside the medium sized room, Finnick sat down on the red couch by the fire exit, massaging his right calf and gazing around the room. Mirror's lined three of the four hot pink and blood red walls in the room. Five racks of clothing lined against the one wall with no reflection, each rack containing a variety of costumes in an assortment of sizes, from full length firefighter outfits and trench coats, to those that exploited a sexual fetish, thongs, g-strings and a wide assortment of underwear.

Couches and benches lined the middle of the room and were mainly covered with the personal belongings of the other male dancers, bartenders and bouncers. Finnick wondered where he had left the black tee and jeans he had worn in that night and hastily removed before his impromptu stage appearance. Peeta moved for the first rack of clothes.

"Your size will probably be the fourth or fifth," Peeta said as he pulled down his briefs.

Finnick nodded and rose from the couch, walking past Peeta as he familiarized himself with the different garments and costumes.

"So what's the deal? Does every number require me in a sailor suit?" Finnick chuckled, turning to Peeta and presenting the sexy sailor suit that consisted of a painfully tight white shirt, white briefs and a sailor hat.

Peeta laughed and tugged on a pair of low cut swim shorts. "Not really, only when Cinna asks for a particular number, which means you'll spend all weekend on stage rehearsing, but for the most part we mainly just stick to what we want, as long as we know when to take it off."

Finnick nodded, turning his attention away from Peeta's naked body and to the silk black boxers that hung on the rack. He removed them and held them up to the younger man, "What do you think?"

"Red," Peeta replied, nodding to the red pair on the next rack, "Put the robe on with them, they freaking love that," he suggested as he fastened his shorts and oddly felt his pulse skip a beat.

"Ah." He eyed the red for a moment, feeling the delicate fabric between his fingers. "Good eye. Thanks."

Peeta smiled, "No problem."

"What's with the swim trunks?" the older man asked with a smirk and raised eyebrow, "You going to the beach after this? If so, I know a sexy sailor suit you can wear."

Laughing, he discarded his worn underwear in the hamper. "I'm 19, which according to Cinna means I'm only to be on stage in either boxers, jocks or tighty whities, nothing that makes the ladies think my balls have dropped, lest they mistake me for an adult, not a kid."

"Well, if it's any conciliation, you gave me a run for my money tonight, Peet, and I'm five years older than you and been doing this a lot longer." Finnick stared at Peeta for a moment questioningly before turning for a mirror as he removed the two garments from their hangers and made his way over to a mirror as he discarded his own briefs. "You working your way through college?"

"Nope," he replied, closing the gap between them in a couple of steps and sharing the mirror, scanning for imperfections on his own body, careful not to be caught stealing glances. "Just rent and spending money. I'm only here on weekends."

"Cinna's got me on Wednesday through Saturday." He pulled on the red silk, eyeing his reflection for a moment before bending down and reaching for the matching red silk robe. "What do you think?" he asked, turning to Peeta for approval.

"Perfect," he replied, turning his attention back to his own appearance.

The door pushed open with Cinna's arm attached to the handle. "Peeta? What's the hold up?" he asked impatiently, "I told you I wanted you behind the bar till-" he checked his watch, "What time are you off?"

"1:30," Peeta replied, as he made his way over to the door.

"Good." Cinna turned his attention the man in red who stood tall in front of the mirror. "Finnick, you good to go back out in ten?"

"You got it," he replied with a nod.

"Good."

With that his the door closed leaving the two men alone again. Peeta reached for the handle before turning to see Finnick watching him questioningly.

"Sorry, I-I was just going to ask if you wanted to get a beer after your shift tonight? Give me a bit more of a low down on how things run around here?" Finnick asked a little awkwardly, almost nervous.

Peeta attempted a smile, but instead squinted awkwardly, unable to form a response. He felt oddly uncomfortable suddenly, "Another night? My girlfriend is waiting up for me tonight, well, that and I think it's going to rain."

Finnick chuckled and rubbed the back of his neck, "Yep cool. Rain check. Definitely-" He reached for a bottle of cologne that sat on one of the tables, applying a squirt to the nape of his neck, "-Yeah."

"Well, I'll see you out there, man," Peeta shrugged with a new found indifference, "Good to meet you. Welcome aboard."

"Yeah, thanks."

Finnick frowned as the door shut and once again, the loud music became a dull thud. He opened his robe and adjusted himself in his underwear. He took one last look at himself in the mirror.

"Showtime."

He turned to head back out to the stage.


	2. Ardor

"I'm not sleeping tonight," Peeta chuckled as he inserted the rolled note into his nostril and used his index finger to press the other nostril shut.

Finnick laughed, "Nothing good happens before 2am."

It was an ordinary Saturday night at The Hob. The crowd was in full swing, as were the dancers. Only two of them decided to spend their much needed down time hidden in the change room sharing a bottle of whiskey and snorting lines of cocaine in the hopes that it would not only provide them with enough adrenaline to enjoy their night, but significantly increase their performance on stage. Finnick sat on the red couch with the younger man, still wearing the satin boxers he had worn on stage with Peeta half an hour earlier.

As Peeta inhaled the last line of the white powder Finnick had cut for them, he immediately felt the effects taking place, or more accurately continue the stimulation. He hadn't used cocaine in months and had only agreed to doing a couple lines given the trouble Finnick had gone to scoring it for them to use together.

"I'm such a team player," Peeta chuckled as he rubbed his nose with the palm of his hand.

"That you are my friend," Finnick replied as he reached for the bottle of whiskey that sat on the coffee table beside the cocaine residue. He took two swigs before setting the bottle back down. "What will Cinna do if he walks in on us?"

Peeta grinned, "Tell him we're on our lunch break."

This quickly had both men laughing hysterically. The joke wasn't particularly funny, but a high dosage of illegal substances was coursing through their veins, making Peeta feel untouchable.

"Tell me about this girlfriend," Finnick asked as they gathered their bearings.

"What do you want to know?" Peeta asked with a grin.

Finnick was quiet for a moment, grinning ear to ear, "What's she like in bed?"

Peeta chuckled, "An eight. I've had better, but I've had way worse."

"Blowjobs?"

"Sometimes…" he replied with hesitation, "I got one on my birthday…"

Finnick burst out laughing hysterically again, shoving Peeta's shoulder in the process. The younger man shook his head and laughed despite himself.

"Fuck you, dickhead," he grumbled with a smile.

The older man tried to regain composure for a moment, "I'm sorry your dick isn't getting sucked as much as it should be," he replied with false sympathy.

"I'm never sharing anything with you again." He reached forward and took a swig from the whiskey bottle as he stared at Finnick's whiskey tinged lips. "You're an ass."

"Aw c'mon, Peeta," Finnick sighed with a grin, as he patted him on the back, "What's her name?"

Their conversation was cut short suddenly when the door burst open. Evan and Jake stormed in, hollering and laughing before their elation quickly wore off upon seeing the two men sitting in the corner staring daggers into them.

"Fuck, I hate those guys," Finnick muttered to Peeta under his breath.

Peeta snorted a laugh, "What do you think they're cheering about?" he mumbled.

"Ol' Jakey must have made it through an entire dance without crushing his nuts on the pole."

Both men sniggered quietly, Peeta held his stomach as he tried to compose his laughter to little avail. The two intruders, who would normally have something to retort, oddly kept their mouths shut in Finnick's presence.

Finnick had taken an instant dislike to both Evan and Jake, two fellow dancers, both of whom were older, when he immediately recognized their distaste for Peeta. Although it may have been juvenile, Finnick felt a sort of camaraderie with the younger man, who had come to quickly respect and admire him in the few short weeks that had passed since Finnick began working at The Hob.

"Why do you do this anyway, Peeta?" Finnick asked him, "Seriously, you're just a kid."

Peeta shrugged as he took another swig of the whiskey, "I can clear about $600 in one weekend."

"So what else are you good at?" the older man asked, reaching for the bottle.

The topic was beginning to make Peeta anxious, it was a topic he didn't like discussing as he didn't like to analyze what he was doing with his life. The answer to the question opened the door to more questions Peeta wasn't ready to answer because he didn't have any answers to offer.

"I'm a pretty good baker," he replied, desperately grasping at his perceived lack of skill in an attempt to impress the older man who looked at him, genuinely interested to know more about him. "I like to paint."

"So bake," Finnick said with a grin, "Or Paint."

Peeta could feel the freshly inhaled drug drip down the back of his throat, much to his enjoyment which was currently being ruined by the discussion at hand.

"Do you have a girlfriend?" Peeta asked, finding himself feeling strangely shy asking the question.

Finnick shook his head, "Nope. Most chicks seem to have a problem with what we do. I guess they don't like knowing that we shake our asses all night for tips."

Peeta felt his bare shoulder press against Finnick's. He immediately shifted over in the couch and coughed nervously, quickly shooting a look at the two other men in the room to see if they noticed the faintest of skin on skin contact. He was pleased to see that they were engrossed in their own conversation on the other side of the room, paying little to no attention to them or what they were doing.

"Does your girlfriend have a problem with it?" Finnick asked as he absentmindedly stretched his arms over his head and cracked his knuckles, "Or have you kept her in the dark?"

"She knows, but she doesn't like to talk about it," he replied, noticing the curves in Finnick's strong shoulders, "If she catches me stoned again she'll kick my ass," he chuckled.

"That's insane," Finnick countered, "There's nothing like fucking while coked up. Like fucking the Enegizer Bunny," he sniggered as he leaned forward and placed the whiskey bottle on the table. He rose from the couch and made his way over to his backpack that sat on the floor a few feet away from them. He retrieved his phone and checked the time. "Breaks over."

"Shit," Peeta muttered, "Cinna's got me on the bar again tonight."

Finnick eyed him up and down as he made his way over to the rack, "You might want to put a shirt on, and some pants."

The younger man rolled his eyes and got up, "What are you doing tomorrow night?" he asked, reaching for his black shirt and tugging it over his head.

Finnick shrugged, "Unpacking. I still haven't had a lot of time to get a lot done since I moved here. My apartment is filled with boxes because I've been working most nights." He pulled a pair of black pants over his underwear.

"Do you need a hand?" Peeta offered as he yanked on a pair of jeans.

The man smiled at him, "Yeah. Thanks. 7:00 work for you?"

"Cool." Peeta took a moment to look in the mirror, checking for any cocaine residue on his nose. "If I don't see you around tonight, I'll see you tomorrow."

"Awesome," Finnick replied, checking his reflection one last time before heading out to the stage. "Cya then."

* * *

After another quick glance at his watch, Peeta was delighted to confirm his shift ended in 10 minutes. The stage was empty and the guests were winding down for the evening, Peeta was thankful that he didn't have to stay on to close the bar he stood behind. He poured himself a shot of tequila and threw it back, hoping to keep a little of his buzz going. Most of the effects of the cocaine had worn off, despite this, Peeta knew he wouldn't get much sleep that night, he'd be lucky to fall asleep before dawn and even that was pushing it.

The strobes began changing colors as the song changed, blasting incredibly loud, providing the man with little to no escape into his own thoughts. Peeta leaned against the bar and observed the women in the club, ogling the men that flirted with them, laughing hysterically at their sensual jokes, it was like shooting fish in a barrel, he thought.

That was when he noticed Finnick in the far corner toward the back of the larger bar. He wore only a pair of jeans, his upper torso covered in glitter and body paint from his earlier performances on stage. He was talking to a woman, one arm pressed against the wall he was leaning on as he whispered in her ear.

Peeta furrowed his eyebrows as he witnessed this, they were having a conversation and judging by their body language, he was explaining something to the beautiful blonde woman who appeared to have caught Finnick's green eyes. He took her by the hand and led her through the door with No Entry clearly marked across it.

It hardly surprised him, the idea that Finnick would pick up a chick in their own club and fuck her in the back. Peeta had never committed such an act himself, but after months of working there, it was no longer uncommon to walk in on a co-worker getting a blowjob in the men's room, or witness a quick dirty fuck in the alley behind the dumpster. It was essentially an unwritten perk of the job. With the amount of sheer eroticism in the air, it would be stranger to think this sort of thing didn't take place at The Hob.

It may have not surprised him, but it certainly peaked his curiosity, enough for Peeta to leave his station and make his way through the dwindling crowd, across the dance floor, past the stage and to the back where he carefully pushed the door open, and closed it behind them.

Peeta slowly moved down the corridor, making sure to remain on his toes. He watched as Finnick pushed the door to the supplies closet open while Peeta, keeping his back pressed to the wall, ducked into the storage room, almost knocking over a pile of boxes filled with glasses in his attempt to remain undetected.

The pounding green light still managed to find them in the darkness, away from the other patrons, the music continued loudly, albeit quieter and no longer blaring. It wasn't until he heard the faint sound of her laugh that he felt secure enough to peer around the corner. Even in the pulsing green light, he could see the woman pressing a roll of cash into Finnick's hand before he moved in and kissed her passionately, his hand snaking the money into the back of his pocket.

Peeta felt his heart race faster than ever. It wasn't the cocaine, it wasn't the alcohol, it was the sight of Finnick's hands reaching up her skirt and pulling her lacy panties down and around her ankles. Her eager hands pulled at the dark, tight jeans before Finnick began unzipping them and pulling them down to his ankles, he wore no underwear.

The feelings that coursed through him were unfamiliar and worrisome. He felt carnal and sensual watching this act take place while also seething in anger that Finnick would not only initiate a quick fuck in the supply cupboard, but also accept payment for such an act. Everything about it made him angry, the way Finnick rolled on the condom and thrust up inside of her, the way she braced him, throwing her head back in ecstasy before finding his lips and kissing him. No amount of mind altering substances could make him forget what he was watching and for a brief moment, he rubbed the palm of his hand against the hardened erection that pressed against the confines of his pants.

Finnick's strong hands pulled her skirt up to allow her legs to wrap around his ass. He thrust up inside of her hard enough to make her squeal louder than the high volume of music filling the air. It wasn't until their lips met again that Peeta had decided he'd had enough of the whole thing. He waited a moment longer before quickly moving down the hallway, noting the way the sound of sex faded with every step and music filled his ears.

* * *

Peeta closed the door to his apartment softly before locking it. He was too high to take any chances. He didn't want to wake her, if she was even there. She didn't return his calls or texts, she was either sleeping or avoiding him. If he woke her up, knocking things over because he was too high to walk, she would not be pleased. She hated his recreational drug use.

He was already on thin ice.

He slowly kicked off his shoes and felt around in the darkness until he managed to reach for the lamp by the door and click it on.

The bedroom door was ajar and as he approached, Peeta noticed her delicate body beneath the covers, sighing ever so gently as she slept. He slowly approached, gently sitting on the edge of the bed and brushing back a lock of her brown hair behind her ear.

Her scent filled his nostrils, her skin was soft to the touch. He could feel his engorged length through his pants, which he pulled down as he climbed into bed and pressed his lips against the shell of her ear.

"Katniss," he whispered gently, kissing her ear lightly.

She stirred and he smiled, pulling the tank top over his head.

"What time is it?" she asked softly.

He hovered over her with one hand atop the headboard, "Almost 2:30."

His expert hands snaked underneath the sheets, his fingers brushed her inner thigh as he pressed a kiss to her lips. She opened her mouth wider as he pushed his tongue inside. He grasped her underwear and pulled it down to her knees before breaking the kiss and looking down at her as his fingers rubbed her first gently, then with a little more pressure, causing a soft whimper to escape her lips.

With his index and middle finger, he rubbed her clit while his hardened dick pressed up against her entrance. He resumed kissing her as he arched his back and pushed his way inside of her, first slowly until he was almost completely sheathed by her.

Peeta pulled his hips back before thrusting into her again, this time a little harder, the way he saw Finnick do the beautiful blonde in the back room. This caused Katniss to let out a softened gasp of pleasure as he pulled back and thrust as hard. Her hands found his shoulders, pulling him down on top of her and bringing their lips back together.

She tasted a little sweet like she always did. It was nice like it always was. But that night he didn't want sweet, slow sex because Katniss was too tired. He wanted it quick and hard, the way he had watched earlier. He didn't want to be in bed, he wanted her with her legs wrapped around him as he fucked her against the wall until her head fell back from the intense pleasure he was providing her.

"Can you get on top?" he asked, panting lightly.

"Yeah," she replied sweetly.

Peeta removed himself from her and rolled onto his back. Katniss pulled her sleep shirt over her head, revealing her beautiful breasts before spreading her legs and sitting on the back of her heels, slowly sinking herself on top of Peeta's erection with another whimper of pleasure.

As she began to ride him slowly, he lowered his lips until they found her breasts, he opened his mouth and sucked her bosom before using his hands to take her by the hips and thrust himself upward inside of her. He pulled half way back just as quickly and thrust up again just as eagerly.

"Slow down," she whispered, letting out a quiet grunt as Peeta thrust up again.

"No," Peeta said with a cocky grin, releasing her breast from his mouth and kissing her on the lips again, "I had a long night and I just want to fuck you really hard."

She nodded with an exasperated and patient smile on her face, "Not tonight, it's late, just finish."

Peeta sighed and felt himself getting soft as she continued to ride him slowly. It took her a moment to realize.

"What's wrong?" she asked.

He felt his face flush with embarrassment. He grasped her by the hips and removed her frame from his body.

"Peeta," she sighed as she attempted to stroke his cheek.

"I'm just drunk," he mumbled, immediately covering himself with the sheet and rolling onto his side so his back faced her, "I'm tired and I had way too much to drink tonight."

She sighed sympathetically, placing a hand on his shoulder and a kiss on the back of his neck. "It's okay, Peeta, just get some sleep okay?"

He nodded and closed his eyes, knowing such a simple task would be impossible. "Okay."

* * *

It wasn't until he heard the quiet sounds of her breathing that he was sure she was asleep. He pulled the sheets off his still naked body and gently rose from the bed. He walked to the bathroom and carefully closed the door behind him. After waiting a moment and listening for any sign of her, he pressed a hand to the counter while his other wrapped around his dick, shuddering at the sensation.

It took him almost no time to get hard in his own hand. He began masturbating furiously, keeping his eyes shut and thinking about his night. As the slick sound of the erection in his hand filled his ears, he thought about the woman Finnick had fucked, how beautiful they looked together, the passion they must have felt for each other as they sneaked into the back room for a quick, cheap fuck.

Peeta began panting softly as he thought about them together, the way her hands clenched the muscles in Finnick's strong shoulders, the way he pulled her panties off, the sound of their grunts and moans, his laugh as they snorted lines together, his smile, they thought of his kiss-

He gasped as he came in his hand, shooting his load in his palm and on his chest. His orgasm got the better of him and for a moment Peeta let out a loud groan of pleasure before reminding himself to not wake Katniss. He collapsed in a heap on the floor with his sweaty back pressed against the door. He would get up to clean himself in a moment, choosing to take a moment to slowly massage his semi-erect dick, running his hand up and down his length, still slowly masturbating while brushing his hand through the small patch of blonde pubic hair. His hand moved up and rubbed his stomach with drops of his come. He continued to slowly stroke himself, pulling his foreskin back and rubbing the head of his penis with the palm of his hand.

For the first time that night he felt tired. He continued panting as he shut his eyes and thought about the way the woman pressed the roll of cash into Finnick's hands, and the way he put the cash in his back pocket. It suddenly occurred to Peeta why Finnick had taken the job at The Hob, and why he remained in that line of work.

He squeezed himself tighter and felt himself get hard again. He let his head fall back against the door as Peeta worked himself up again in his hand.


	3. Camaraderie

"Where is this place anyway?" Peeta asked as he took another drag of his cigarette and looked at Finnick expectantly as they huffed down the empty street.

Finnick slowed down to tap Peeta on the shoulder, signaling his attention and taking the cigarette out of his fingers. "It's still a couple of blocks away." He took a drag of Peeta's cigarette and continued walking. "Are you cold?" he asked, taking one more draw before handing it back.

Peeta nodded, "I should have brought my coat," he replied with the cigarette dangling from his lips as he rubbed his left hand up and down his right arm, "It doesn't matter, we're almost there."

The older man stopped walking again to remove his black leather jacket.

"I'm fine," Peeta replied as he tried to force his teeth from chattering.

Finnick smirked, "I'll trade you for the rest of your cigarette."

"Thanks." He accepted the jacket and handed what little was left of the smoldering cigarette, finding the warmth the jacket provided immensely satisfying, a relief from the cold weather.

His hand gently rested on the small of Peeta's back, pushing him forward as they continued to walk before retreating to his pockets, his other hand held the cigarette in two fingers.

"I hope you're not too cold," Peeta said with a smile as he mentally noted the jacket was a size or two too big for him.

"Nah," he replied, "I'm the one dragging you out with me, it's the least I could do right?"

It wasn't until he pulled the jacket closed around his torso that he smelt Finnick all over him, his scent filled the jacket and Peeta's nostrils. The smile on Peeta's face grew a little, he opted to stare down at the sidewalk as they walked so as to avoid being caught.

"So why are we going to this place?" he asked, looking over to Finnick and noticing the way his hair hung in his face.

"I need a drink and I'm not going to sit in a strip club having to make small talk with chicks all night to do it," he replied as they picked up the pace a little, "This place is quiet, we can hang, just us two."

"Sounds good," Peeta replied, pulling the jacket closed around him.

The two men walked in silence for the next block. It had become unusual for the two of them to let their conversations dwindle, even when they spent a lot of time together there was always something to talk about, to laugh about. Finnick had become very fond of the younger man's sense of humor.

"You alright tonight?" The older man asked, "You've been kind of quiet. Anything on your mind?"

Peeta was hesitant to answer at first, afraid that if he opened his mouth to speak, the truth would fall out and he would be left to pick up the pieces after the irreparable damage had already been done. He needed to take a moment to censor what he wanted to speak about, to carefully construct his words in a way that wouldn't reveal that he not only spied on the man having casual sex, but had masturbated over it many times in the past week. He was terrified to really ask himself if he enjoyed watching the act itself, or if it was merely the fact that he was watching Finnick perform it. That kind of question had no place in the back of his mind and he pushed it out whenever it would surface on the forefront of his thoughts. He would not answer it. All he knew was he enjoyed watching what he did, but it had left him feeling confused and a little hurt, like a small innocent child experiencing something that would give them a glimpse of the real world.

He was enjoying the time he was spending with Finnick. In truth, some nights he didn't want them to end which was why he eagerly accepted another one of Finnick's offers to join him for a very late night drink after a long and arduous shift which involved a lot of dancing on a pole for the pleasure of others. He didn't want the questions he wanted to ask ruin what was quickly developing into a lasting friendship, on the other hand, those questions were eating away at him, he knew he couldn't be himself around Finnick without receiving some answers, even if they weren't his questions to ask, nor the answers he wasn't entitled to.

"Okay, I'm going to ask you something," Peeta said hesitantly, "But I won't blame you if you tell me to shut the fuck up, alright?"

Finnick chuckled, "Let's hear it."

"Are you a hooker?" the younger man asked, bringing them both to a stop on the sidewalk.

Finnick took the last drag of the cigarette and inhaled, looking deep in thought for a moment before exhaling a large cloud of blue smoke into the cold wind, "I prefer the term hustler, but yeah."

"Are you serious?" he asked, unsure why he was suddenly surprised by the answer.

The man looked at him dumbly, "Am I that obvious?" he flicked the cigarette butt away as he continued walking with his head down and hands in his pockets. "Did one of the chicks in the club tell you?"

Peeta quickly moved with him, noticing the way they picked up the pace, "Yeah," he lied, terrified to reveal the truth, unsure how revealing that he was spying would go down. "I'm sorry, Finnick. I shouldn't have brought it up."

"It's okay," Finnick sighed, "I understand if you don't want to hang out with me anymore."

"Wait," Peeta said, stopping the taller man as they walked by taking hold of his shoulder. "Why would I want that?"

He shrugged, still looking at the ground, "Most people who find out think it's kind of gross, it's why I don't have any friends," he said with a pathetic laugh, "Either that or they judge me, misinterpret what I want or how I feel because of what I do."

Peeta had caught his first glimpse at his friend's vulnerable side, something that made him very upset, very quickly. He never wanted to see the man hurt like that again, especially if he was the cause. He shoved Finnick's shoulder in a good natured sign of affection. "Yeah but then I'd lose my good pot connection."

Finnick chuckled before crossing his arms over his chest. "No shit? That gives me an idea."

* * *

Peeta smiled to himself as he watched Finnick roll them a joint. He stood from his place in the large lounge chair and wondered around the spacious living room of Finnick's extravagant apartment. He was one floor below the penthouse with an amazing view from the terrace. Peeta was rather fond of the view from 12 stories high.

Upon his first visit, he had been completely baffled as to how Finnick could afford such a lavish apartment but now it made sense. There was a certain amount of respect he had for the older man, and despite how much he hated himself for thinking it, there was a little bit of judgment.

He looked out the two large windows that led to the terrace. It was still mostly night, but Peeta could just make out the start of the sun rising over the city skyline.

"You can ask about it, y'know," Finnick said from his place on the floor with his back resting on the couch. He took the first steady toke from the freshly rolled joint.

Peeta was quiet for a moment as he mentally decided which of the several questions circulating through his mind he wanted to ask first. "Why do you do it?"

Finnick held the smoke in for a few seconds before slowly exhaling a steady cloud of thick smoke. "Money."

The younger man scoffed, "You work at the club four nights a week, you make plenty of money. Why do you really do it?"

"That _is_ why I really do it, Peeta," he replied as he sat up and passed the joint to him, "I'm no fool, I know that I'm not going to be able to do this forever, strip or fuck around. It's why I want to make sure I'm set for life now."

He accepted the joint. "And how are you going to set yourself for life?"

"Investments." Finnick rose from his place on the floor and made his way over to the large double doors and pulled them open allowing the cold morning breeze to fill the apartment. "This apartment, a couple of smaller buildings down town."

Peeta took a long draw of the joint and inhaled deep into his lungs before exhaling. "And money is the only reason you do it? You don't like the sex?"

Finnick shook his head, "Depends on the person," he said with a shrug, "But sometimes not even that's enough."

"Why's that?"

"Because there's plenty of passion, but no feelings. There's no love."

His words struck a chord with Peeta who took another hit of the joint as he tried to remember when the last time he and Katniss said they loved eachother.

"Have you ever been in love?" Peeta asked.

Finnick chuckled and resumed his place on the floor, "C'mon man, don't get all heavy on me now," he laughed, reaching forward to take back the joint which was handed to him.

"What?" Peeta asked defensively, "You said to ask."

He nodded, "A couple of times. But I always managed to fuck it up."

"How'd you do that?"

Finnick looked at him plainly, "Like I said earlier, people can't accept a certain aspect of my life. I don't really blame them, I'm not sure I would accept me either."

"Can I tell you something I will only say now because I'm stoned?" Peeta asked.

He smiled and chuckled to himself, "Yeah."

"You shouldn't be so harsh on yourself," the younger man sighed, "I'm glad we're friends."

"Me too, Peeta."

They sat in silence for the next few moments, Finnick stared at the ceiling while Peeta stared out at the terrace again. Neither man would openly admit it, but this was the most enjoyable time they had spent together. It was just the two of them sharing a joint in Finnick's apartment at 4am on a Sunday morning. It was a time that Peeta didn't want to end, he found himself growing more comfortable, not only being in the presence of the man, inside of his apartment, but being his confidant, listening to his stories and experiences and being able to share in parts of his life that were private from others. It made him want to reciprocate.

"I don't think Katniss even loves me anymore," Peeta sighed glumly, folding his hands in his lap, unable to find any sort of escape or comfort in the marijuana that was proffered to him by the other man. He took a few weak drags before continuing. "She gets pissed off at me really easily, no matter what I do. She's not happy."

"Why isn't she happy?" Finnick asked, his brow furrowed.

Peeta scoffed, "She hates what I do, we never spend any time together and when we do we're always fighting… She hates that I use, she hates that I drink, she doesn't laugh at my jokes. Not only does she dislike me, she doesn't get me."

"Do you love her?" the older man asked, almost slurring his words slowly.

Peeta observed him and wondered what caused the tonal shift in his voice? Was it that the question hurt to ask? Or was it simply the strong drug that was going to his head too?

"I'm not really sure," he replied after a beat, "I keep trying to work out my feelings, but I'm drawing a blank."

Finnick looked at him with a half smile, "If you broke up with her, I could be your wingman," he held out his hands defensively, "Just sayin'"

This made Peeta smile, but not happy. The older man rose from his spot on the floor to the spot on the couch next to him, watching as he inhaled and held it in before slowly releasing.

"You know you can't get stoned to make your problems go away, Peeta," he said as he casually knocked his shoulder into his, "They're still going to be there when you've sobered up."

He leaned forward and set the joint down in the ashtray on the coffee table before turning to look at his friend. The hits he had taken so far had made his inhibitions drop while giving him a little more clarity, unfortunately not all of his problems could be cleared up as easily.

"How many chicks have you slept with?" Peeta asked with a cocky grin, mentally noting the way their knees touched.

"_That_ I will not be revealing tonight," Finnick said with a laugh. "Or today, whatever. I've shared enough for one night."

The younger man chuckled before sitting back in the comfortable lounge, purposely keeping his knee pressed against Finnick's. He yawned deeply.

"You're welcome to crash," Finnick said as he stood up, "Help yourself to anything."

Peeta nodded and held his arm out, "Give me a hand man."

"You're stoned," he sniggered as he grabbed hold of his friends hand and pulled him up, "You're lazy too."

Before Finnick had a chance to finish laughing at his own insult, Peeta was on his feet, taking a step forward and placing a kiss on his lips. Even a quick peck on the lips caused his head to start spinning as the younger man stood still, staring straight in front of him at the taller man's quivering throat which was as high as his eye line reached. Neither man reacted or spoke for the next passing moments which seemed to last a lifetime.

Peeta sighed, realizing his colossal fuck up, "Sorry-"

Finnick curled a hand in his blonde locks, looked down and kissed him back, only this time the kiss was different. Both men opened their mouths, Finnick captured Peeta's lips with his own, taking his bottom lip between both of his.

The fact that he was deliberately kissing him made Peeta's heart beat faster while at the same time it left him feeling incredibly aroused. Suddenly everything felt exactly the way it was supposed to, especially as Finnick's other hand grabbed his shirt and roughly pulled him in closer. It seemed as if this whole time something had been missing and now everything felt right.

Finnick tasted like pot and beer, a perfect combination and not at all sweet, exactly what he wanted.

It was only the need for air that broke the kiss, leaving both men panting as deep blue eyes stared into green.

"I'm going to go to bed," Finnick said.

Peeta's heart raced faster than when he was on stage for the first time. He stared at the man, completely dumbfounded. "Okay? Goodnight?"

"Night, Peeta," he replied slowly as he turned for the hallway.

Peeta took a seat on the couch. It wasn't until he heard Finnick's door close that he commanded his lungs to fill with oxygen. He had allowed his inhibitions to fall and now he knew he would suffer the consequences of his stupid recklessness. What if he lost Finnick as a friend because of this? What if things became too awkward for either of them to muster the courage to face each other again? The thought made him sick to his stomach, it was truly terrifying to him.

It took him a full minute of worry before he stopped to consider Katniss and the fact that he had fucked it all up again. His delayed reaction only made him hate himself even more.

He rose from his spot to pull the double doors to the balcony shut, before finding himself too tired to do anything besides fall on the couch and hope that he would soon pass out, which he did 10 minutes later.

* * *

It wasn't until midday that Finnick's eyes opened. His thoughts immediately turned to Peeta, his friend who had kissed him, and in a moment of weakness and curiosity, he had kissed back. He hated that his mind couldn't even afford him a minute of peace.

He reached for a dislodged pair of sweatpants by the bed and tugged them on over his underwear. Swinging his legs off the bed slowly, he rose and was surprised to feel fine with no symptoms of a hangover despite how trashed he had been not eight hours earlier. He placed his hand on the doorknob, before freezing in his tracks. He found himself intimidated to face the younger man who would no doubt wish to have a conversation regarding the events that had transpired.

That was when Finnick took a moment to remember how it felt, how he felt. Aroused, ecstatic, breathless. He knew there was something special about Peeta, he had always been sure of it, it wasn't until they kissed that he realized how much he cared for his friend and how important he was to him. Was their new found friendship worth jeopardizing over this? If not, was it worth jeopardizing for the chance of a working relationship, something which Finnick knew he would destroy? Surely he couldn't derail his job for the sake of a relationship.

There were too many questions that needed answers. The more they looped in his mind, the more he could feel his headache setting in.

Finnick pulled the door open and made his way down the hallway and into the lounge room, where he found Peeta putting his shoes on.

"Hey," he said with a nervous cough.

Peeta smiled at him, "Morning. Hey, thanks for letting me crash."

"N-no problem," he replied, stuffing his hands into the pockets of his sweatpants. "You're leaving?"

"Yeah." He stood up and straightened himself out. "I've got a lot to do today."

Finnick nodded, "Let me drive you home."

"It's okay," he shrugged, his chipper smile still in place. "I can walk, it's not that far. Thanks again, Finnick."

There was something in the man's demeanor that Finnick didn't like. Peeta was never one to leave when he was enjoying himself. He found it very odd that the younger man wouldn't at least suggest getting lunch. Things were already weird, he didn't like it. He didn't want a stupid kiss to take away his only friend.

"Peeta," Finnick sighed, "We should talk about what happened last night."

He stopped and turned, "What are you talking about?"

Finnick rolled his eyes, "This is already weird, don't make it weirder. You know what I'm talking about."

Peeta gaped, "I really have no idea, man. Did I do something stupid last night? It's pretty hazy."

The older man shook his head and hid his observation with a chuckle. "No, you didn't do anything. I just took a leak on a cop car, I didn't want you to think I'm a complete idiot when I'm drunk is all."

Peeta laughed, "I don't even remember that, but I'm sure I've done worse."

He nodded and smiled, finding himself somewhat relieved. "I'll see you tomorrow?"

"Count on it," Peeta replied, "Thanks again." He pulled the door open and shut it behind him.

Finnick stared at the door for a full minute as he wondered what exactly Peeta remembered and what he blocked out. Now he wasn't sure if he was happy or hurt that Peeta had forgotten something that he, himself knew he never would.

* * *

Peeta pulled the door to Finnick's apartment door before moving immediately for the elevator. He impatiently waited for it to open as he tapped his foot and muttered under his breath. It wasn't until he got on that he angrily kicked the door.

"Fuck-fuck-fuck!" he grumbled, scratching his head in frustration. "You fucking idiot!"

He closed his eyes and pressed his back against the wall, his thoughts still on Finnick and the kiss he pretended to forget.


End file.
